When Puck Met Rachel
by strawberryfinn
Summary: "Chicks and guys can't be friends, because all guys want is sex." "Do you want to sleep with me right now?" "Kinda." Enter the compulsive Rachel Berry, aspiring Broadway star, and the infamous womanizer, Noah Puckerman. Puckelberry. Puck/Rachel AU
1. First Impressions

**Author's Note**: Hi guys! So I recently watched _When Harry Met Sally_ for the first time and absolutely fell in love with it. So I decided to take it to the _Glee_ fandom and write kind of a spin-off of it with Rachel being Sally and Puck being Harry. It's going to have some similar scenes, but also have differences, so I hope you enjoy!

**Disclaimer**: I don't own any of the characters of _Glee _or the movie _When Harry Met Sally_

**Summary**: "Chicks and guys can't be friends, because all guys want is sex." "Do you want to sleep with me right now?" "Kinda." Enter the compulsive Rachel Berry, aspiring Broadway star, and the infamous womanizer, Noah Puckerman. Eventual Puckelberry. Alternate Universe

**Warnings**: language, maybe sexual content/innuendo

**Genre**: Romance, Humor, Friendship, Drama, Hurt/Comfort

**Pairings**: Finn/Rachel (Finchel), Puck/Quinn (Quick), Mike/Tina (Tike), eventual Puck/Rachel (Puckelberry)

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><p><strong>When Puck Met Rachel<strong>

**Chapter One: First Impressions**

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><p>It is exactly 6:30 A.M. and that is the exact minute Tina said that her roommate Santana Lopez and Santana's "boyfriend" Noah Puckerman would be here, so where on earth are they? Tardiness does not get anyone a callback, don't they know that? Punctuality is the way to make the best first impression, that will allow the opportunity for a second good impression, that will eventually pave way to success. Plus, she is doing them a <em>favor<em>, so it would be only considerate for them to be on time.

Rachel Berry flips open her hand mirror and studies her reflection. Her new bangs were a good decision. Her nose is a little big, but like Barbra Streisand, it will become a symbol of endearment and power and talent.

She flips her mirror closed again. Where _are _they?

Honestly? Rachel is only doing this for Tina because Tina has been a good friend and Rachel doesn't have too many of those. It's probably because other girls are intimidated by her star quality, but she can't help it, can she? They're just jealous.

But anyways, Tina is a good friend, and that's why Rachel is doing this for her. Rachel knows that Tina doesn't even like Santana, but they are roommates and when Santana asked Tina to ask Rachel for a ride for Puck to New York, Rachel hesitated, but accepted—but why is he _late?_

There's a thump against the back of her car, and Rachel rolls down the window. She leans over to look outside and can feel her jaw visibly drop. _You have got to be kidding me!_

* * *

><p>He's pretty sure that he could do her right now. Yes, they already had sex this morning and then they took a shower together, but Puck is pretty certain that the fact that Santana is letting him push his hand further and further up her skirt is a sure sign that she wouldn't mind doing it again either.<p>

He deepens the kiss as he feels her fingers clasping behind the back of his head. His free hand (the one that's not on her firm ass), splays over Santana's flat stomach, and he closes his eyes as a groan escapes.

"Ooh, am I turning you on babe?" Santana murmurs into the kiss, "You know, you can always just not go to New York and stay here."

"God, Santana," Puck smirks, "you know I want to-"

He's interrupted by the sound of loud, ear-splitting honking. "What the-"

* * *

><p>Rachel has had enough of this nonsense. She needs to be in New York by tomorrow night at the latest and she does <em>not <em>have time to waste. She was scheduled to leave at promptly 6:30 this morning and she is not going to sit in her car and wait for some Neanderthal with an outdated mohawk to feel up his girlfriend when she is on a tight schedule.

She presses her car's horn again when she sees the boy—who she presumes is Noah—look up in shock.

"What the hell is your problem?" he yells, and the girl with the long, straight black hair, evil eyes, and full lips (probably Santana) throws her a dirty look.

What the hell's _her _problem? What's wrong with _her?_ She is not the one who needed a ride to New York and is hitching one off of a complete stranger. She is not the one who is desperate—she is doing the favor. What the hell is _his _problem?

"What is _my_ problem?" she bristles, narrowing her eyes at the couple outside of her car. Noah turns to tongue Santana again, but Rachel will _not _have this. "Excuse me, but I am talking to you!" She honks the horn in fury. "Please give me the proper attention when I am addressing you! What is my problem? My problem is that we were scheduled to leave," she checks her watch, "twenty-seven minutes ago and I have been waiting for you very patiently, but you are inconsiderate and unappreciative, so if you do not get in the car right now Mr. Noah Puckerman, I will just have to leave without you."

Her words are full of a firm resolve, but if Noah notices, he doesn't say anything. Instead, he just deepens the kiss with Santana, and throws his bag into Rachel's car with the hand that he's not using to cup Santana's butt. Noah takes his own sweet time, and after a final kiss and a flirtatious wink, he rudely opens the door to the front passenger seat and clambers in.

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><p>Puck studies the girl sitting next to him. She's small and thin and lacks the curves that Santana has, and her nose gives away her Jewish background. And her hands are gripped around her steering wheel so hard that her knuckles are white. He grins an easy smile and props his feet up onto her dashboard.<p>

"What are you doing?" comes her sharp voice. She speaks without looking over at him, her eyes still fixated on the road.

"What do you mean?" he drawls slowly, running his fingers through his mohawk.

"Put your feet down," she orders tersely, and Puck is thinking about seeing how much he can push her limits, but he decides to do as she says. After all, she is kind of doing him a favor.

Silence.

"The name's Puck," his voice cuts the tension like a knife through butter. "Rachel, right?"

"Rachel Barbra Berry," she says daintily, and she turns to meet his eyes. Her eyes are big and brown and full in her small face. "You should remember that name. I'm going to be a star."

"Really then?" he smirks, "what type?"

"Broadway, obviously," Rachel sniffs, as if the fact that he considered any other fame is disdainful. "You're going to see my name in the lights, all over Times Square, and you'll be one of those individuals fortunate enough to say you met me. I can give you my autograph now if you would like it."

Puck is pretty sure that if he was drinking milk right now, it would come rushing out of his nose. He laughs out loud, and then stops when he realizes Rachel isn't. Instead, she is looking at him as if there's something wrong with _him._

Oh wait. She can't be serious.

"You're serious about this star business?" Puck asks, disbelief written all over the contours of his face and in his hazel eyes.

"Yes, very. Why wouldn't this be a serious matter?" Rachel looks back at him, her cool, calm reserve penetrating through her features.

Puck doesn't answer but turns his face and watches the scenery drift by outside. This is going to be a hell of a long ride.

* * *

><p>The journey from Lima to New York is long enough that it will take around a day's worth of driving. Rachel pulls into a roadside diner for dinner, and Noah—Puck, she reminds herself—wakes up from where he's been snoring rather soundly and stretches out his cramped body.<p>

Rachel studies the menu, searching for reasonable vegan and kosher options, but everything seems to be laden with some type of greasy fried meat or thick cheese. Sighing to herself, she decides she'll just have to opt for a salad—it will help her keep her star figure as well.

Puck, sitting across the table from her, has eye-sex with the waitress (who flushes a deep red and looks flattered), and orders fried chicken and mashed potatoes with gravy. Rachel shudders just thinking about the food, but Puck doesn't seem to notice.

And now the waitress, with her dyed platinum blonde hair and big blue eyes, reluctantly draws her eyes from Puck and asks Rachel what she can get her.

"I'll get the Salad #1—but not the ham, bacon, or eggs—or onions. Just the lettuce, tomatoes, carrots, and and olives. And instead of Caesar dressing, I want fat-free Italian vinagrette. If there are any animal products at all, I do not want them. I know the salad comes with bread, but if the bread is made with any milk other than soymilk or contains butter, please try to give me a plate of raw cucumbers instead. Oh! And this is for you," Rachel hands the waitress a napkin with her penned signature. "This is so when I make it big, you have proof that you met me."

The waitress gives Rachel a skeptical look, but Rachel doesn't mind. She gets that look a lot, but she knows the waitress will appreciate it a few years from now, and she'll be thankful then.

_Did she just give the waitress her autograph_? Puck is thinking. His eyes are glued on the waitress who has a _great _ass and watches as the waitress throws the autographed napkin in the trash. Figures.

He puts his attention back on the girl across the table. She took about freaking ten million years to order.

"Um, so... you a vegetarian then?" he grumbles.

"Vegan and I keep kosher," Rachel says. "My faith is very important to me and it's important to eat organic, healthy food that is uncontaminated and untouched by innocent animals."

Puck's skin nearly crawls in revulsion. Who _is _this girl? "You Jewish then?"

"Yes," Rachel says matter-of-factly. "And you are as well? Do you keep kosher?"

"Don't eat bacon, but otherwise not really," Puck shrugs. He drums his fingers absentmindedly against the table, having nothing more to say to the annoying, crazy girl with big eyes sitting across from him.

"Are you and Santana together then?" Rachel inquires, breaking the silence.

Puck, who is taking a drink of his water, nearly spits it out. He coughs, slamming his chest to breathe properly, and then answers. "I guess, kind of. I mean, we do it a lot, if that's what you mean." He wiggles his eyebrows flirtatiously, his confidence taking a high leap as he figures even crazy girls like Berry want to ride him.

"Oh," Rachel sniffs as if Puck is a maggot. "That's nice then." Her tone implies that it's not nice at all.

Puck stops coughing and takes another drink of water. Maybe he misinterpreted her question. "What about you then? You with anyone?"

"I'm not currently seeing anyone at the moment," Rachel says primly, "I'm using my time and efforts to focus on my career. It's more important for me to get ahead in my presentation and spend time attending casting calls and getting auditions. Being a star is more important to me right now than a relationship."

Puck rolls his eyes and mutters something under his breath and Rachel's brow furrows. "What did you just say?"

"Nothing," Puck raises his hands in defense.

"No, I demand to hear what you just said," Rachel says, looking seriously at him. "Noah, what did you say?"

"Well," Puck smirks cockily, "people who just say they need to 'focus on their career' are virgins or bad at sex."

Rachel's outrage is outlined all over her face as the waitress brings their food.

"That is _not _true!" she hisses, "I have had plenty of sex and I have had _good _sex at that! And I will tell you that I am very talentedat sex!"

"Yeah, whatever," Puck mutters, pushing a forkful of mashed potatoes into his mouth.

"I'm telling the truth!" Rachel yelps adamantly. Her eyes widen in anger. "I am _good _at sex!" Her voice slowly escalates, and Puck is aware of everyone in the diner slowly looking toward their table.

"Yeah, yeah," Puck says, "good for you. Now stop yelling about your sex life and eat your rabbit food."

Rachel suddenly becomes self-conscious about the stares that she's receiving and flushing a dark pink, she does exactly what Puck suggests, tossing her salad with the vinagrette. Puck watches her out of the corner of his eye as he eats his fried chicken. She has long eyelashes, he notices, and her thin face is framed by glossy, brown bangs and lengthy, shiny hair. Her nose is a little bit on the big side and is dotted by small, barely visible freckles. Her lips are long and full and are balanced on a small chin.

She's not ugly at all, he decides. Actually, this crazy Berry girl is actually kind of hot, and he decides that he should share his opinions.

"You know, you're pretty hot," he says casually, as he chews his food. "Like for a Jew too."

"Thank you—_excuse me_!" Rachel says, looking slightly less composed than before. "You can't say that!"

"Why?" Puck asks, "I can say whatever I want."

"But you're with Santana," Rachel stresses. "You can't just be going around and flirting with other girls when you are with someone."

"I'm not flirting with you," Puck retorts. "I'm just saying a fact. You are pretty hot, at least when your mouth is shut and you're not yammering on about crap."

"Well excuse me that I can actually talk about something relatively intelligent and not at all related to the human reproductive system," Rachel snaps. "Noah, you know, I really don't like you."

"I really don't care what you think," Puck says calmly. And he really doesn't. At least that's what he's telling himself, and he pretends that the irritating feeling in his chest is just heartburn. "But you know, if you want, tonight we could get a hotel room—just you and me."

Rachel's response is dumping her glass of cold water and ice all over his head.

He figures that's a _no._

* * *

><p>"You are <em>unbelievable<em>, do you know that?" Rachel says, when Puck finally stumbles back to the car after drying out in the bathroom. Luckily for him, the waitress thought he was a poor, lost, wounded type and dried him off (and also made out with him for fifteen minutes in the back kitchen).

Puck doesn't answer, but just glowers angrily at Rachel in silence. What the hell? She could have just said no, but who on earth says no to a night with Puckzilla? She doesn't know what she's missing out on.

"Why on _earth _would I sleep with some stranger that I've just met? And why would I sleep with you when you're seeing someone? Doesn't Santana mean _anything _to you? How would she feel? You have absolutely no consideration for anyone's feelings, do you?" Rachel's teeth are clenched and she has this crazy, scary look in her eyes and Puck decides that he's just not going to answer any of her questions.

"And to _think! _I thought we could have been friends, since we're both going to New York. But, guess what Noah Puckerman! I will never, ever be friends with you, and I will never, _ever _have sex with you. You are disgusting."

Okay, this is enough. His ego has been bruised enough for one day, and he can't just let her get away with dissing his manlihood.

"Dude, Rachel. Chicks and guys can't be friends, because all guys want is sex." The words cascade out of his mouth like a waterfall before he can stop himself, but as he says it, he realizes he really believes it. He doesn't have a single female friend that he doesn't want to bang (or hasn't banged).

Rachel sniffs dispairingly in that annoying way that she does. "Oh really, Noah? You mean to say that—do you want to sleep with me right now? Even after everything?"

Puck repeats her question in his mind multiple times, and he decides to answer truthfully, even though he's pretty sure it's his dick doing the thinking. "Kinda."

Rachel's disgruntled _hmmmph _is enough to signal to him that she has not budged on her resolve not to have sex with him. Puck grumbles and rolls over in his chair to fall asleep. This is going to be a long journey indeed.

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><p>When they finally reach New York, Rachel's eyes light up in excitement. She looks around at the huge buildings and all of the skyscrapers, and thinks, <em>Oh my gosh, I'm really here. New York is about to be graced with my presence and I really am a star in the making.<em>

She stares out her window in awe, and decides that it's time for Noah to wake up, because they are here, and she can't wait to get rid of him so that she can just start exploring by herself and move into her apartment.

"Noah," she says loudly, but he doesn't wake up. Instead, he turns over and snores even louder. The _nerve _of this boy.

"Noah Puckerman," she tries again, more loudly. No response.

"_Noah,_" she shoves him with the tip of her fingers, because there is no way that she really wants to touch him. No response. Again.

With a groan, she decides she'll have to resort to desperate measures. Taking her canteen with the golden star on it, she unscrews the lid and dumps the water all over his head. Noah comes to with a splutter and a curse and says, "What the hell is wrong with you, Crazy Berry?"

"We're here," Rachel says with resolve. "And I'm at the place where you're supposed to get off," she gestures outside to an apartment complex, "so please get out now."

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><p>Puck is flabbergasted. In his twenty-two years of life, he has never, ever met a girl like this. And what the hell—the last twenty seven hours or so that he has spent with her have been almost completely unbearable. She wants him to <em>leave? <em>Hell yeah, he'll leave and he hopes he never sees her again. What if she's kind of a hot Jew (and maybe the type of girl his mom would want him to marry?) She's _psycho_.

"Thanks," he growls, as he grabs his suitcases from the back of Rachel's car.

"You're welcome," is her terse reply. "I'm sorry you think that boys and girls can't be friends. You were the only person I knew in New York."

"Yeah, whatever."

Puck turns around and leaves, without any looks behind his back. Rachel Berry is crazy and he hopes he never sees her again.

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><p><strong>Author's Note<strong>: So that is Chapter One. Thank you so much for reading-I hope you enjoyed it! If you would like to see more, please "Submit a Review." I'd really appreciate it and it will encourage me to update :)

I need some suggestions on what Puck's job should be in New York if any of you guys have any ideas. I know this chapter was kind of similar to the first meeting in _When Harry Met Sally _but I'm going to switch it up (I promise!) Also, if you like KLAINE pairings, please check out **_Courage _**or I am also working on a school shooting story (I'm writing the second installment of it right now) **_Small Steps_**. I would really love if you could review those :)


	2. Barbra Streisand Sucks Big Time

**Author's Note**: Hi guys! Thank you so much for the feedback! I really appreciated it :) Here's the second installment. It's shorter than the first but I hope you enjoy it and keep reading. Please leave me a review if you have any suggestions or enjoyed it! (_Story Alerts-38, Story Favs-13)_

**Disclaimer**: I don't own any of the characters of _Glee _or the movie _When Harry Met Sally_

**Summary**: "Chicks and guys can't be friends, because all guys want is sex." "Do you want to sleep with me right now?" "Kinda." Enter the compulsive Rachel Berry, aspiring Broadway star, and the infamous womanizer, Noah Puckerman. Eventual Puckelberry. Alternate Universe

**Warnings**: language, maybe sexual content/innuendo

**Genre**: Romance, Humor, Friendship, Drama, Hurt/Comfort

**Pairings**: Finn/Rachel (Finchel), Puck/Quinn (Quick), Mike/Tina (Tike), eventual Puck/Rachel (Puckelberry)

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><p><strong>When Puck Met Rachel<strong>

**Chapter Two: Barbra Streisand Sucks Big Time**

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><p><em>Two Years Later<em>

Puck is sure he's seen her somewhere. She's petite with shiny brown hair, bright eyes, full lips and kind of a big nose. She's wearing a blue and white polka-dot dress. Some big, hulking guy with friendly, brown eyes is standing behind her with his hands protectively on her waist, a delighted, lovesick smile spilling across his face.

Puck is sure he's met her somewhere before. He rings up a customer, his eyes still focused on her, his mind going crazy as he tries to place her in his mind, and he makes a decision. He's gonna go talk to her.

"Hey, do you need any help with these?" Puck asks, as he walks up to her. The girl is shuffling through the drawer of records, her lips pursed in her unwavering focus. "Are you looking for anything in particular?"

The girl—no, woman, (he corrects himself)—turns her face to look at him, and he still doesn't know who she is. A flicker of recognition runs through her eyes, leading the scornful curl of her lips, but that's when the giant behind her yells, "Hey, _Puck!_"

And Puck looks at the man for the first time and it dawns on him. "_Finn? _Finn Hudson?"

"Yeah, man! How you been?" Finn is giving him a wide, slightly goofy smile and babbling in his slightly slow way. "I haven't seen you in forever! What are you doing?"

The girl looks distressed, her eyes traveling from back and forth between Puck and Finn. Her frustrated expression, however, goes unnoticed by Finn, who is overly excited about seeing a long-lost friend.

"Um, I own this shop," Puck gestures to the walls filled with records behind him, the rows of records and CDs, and the instruments lining the floor. "Just like, a bunch of music stuff."

"That's so cool!" Finn says, his eyes wide with excitement. (Puck is wondering how he was ever friends with anybody who wanted to piss in his pants every time someone divulged new information). "Ha, I'm working as a construction worker, but it's just a temporary job. Just until I get something better to help me and Rach—oh, I'm sorry—" he squeezes the girl's hand and turns her to face Puck, "–Rachel, this is my old high school friend Puck. Puck, this is my girlfriend, Rachel. She's gonna be on _Broadway_."

Finn sounds overexcited and proud of the fact that Rachel's his girl. He beams at her, weaving his fingers through hers. Puck grins at his friend's delight and extends a hand toward Rachel (oh, so _that's_ her name). "Nice to meet-"

"Oh, we've met before," Rachel says coldly, looking Puck up and down. She keeps her free hand still at her side and doesn't bother to shake Puck's hand.

"Oh, I..." Finn's smile falters as he looks concernedly at Rachel and then at Puck. "Is everything, uh-"

"Everything's fine," Puck assures his old friend. An idea creeps into his head, and he tells Finn, "Say, Finn, why don't you go look at some Tamas I got in," he says, gesturing to the row of drums. "I remember you used to play the drums and you should try some out—they sound really nice."

"Really?" Finn replies eagerly, like a dog that has just been told he gets to go for a run. He lets go of Rachel's hand and focuses his eyes on the drums. "Thanks, man!"

"Yeah, I'll help Rachel find what she's looking for," Puck says, "this is my store after all."

Puck forces a cheesy smile at Finn as Finn bounds off to the drums like a kid in a candy store. When Finn is out of sight, Puck turns his attention to Rachel.

"So... we uh... did we, you know, uh..." Puck stammers. What the hell is wrong with him? He never loses his composure around girls, but this pint-sized diva is a force to be reckoned with.

"No, Noah Puckmeran, I did _not _have sex with you. And," Rachel says sharply, "and that is probably the only reason why you remember me."

And it all comes rushing back. The crazy psycho girl who handed out autographs, the one who was a Jew and proud of it, the one who kicked him out of her car like he was the spawn of Satan, the only girl (back then at least), the one who was self-assured enough to turn him down.

"I remember you" is all he can manage, and Rachel turns angrily away with a _hmmmmph_ and starts flipping through the records.

"What do you need?" Puck asks, trying to ignore the fact that he's a bit put off at how she's treating him like a piece of gum that she steps in on the sidewalk.

"Well, not like you can help me at all as you obviously lack musical inclinations, but _I _am looking for Barbra Streisand's rendition of 'My Man' from the masterpiece, _Funny Girl,_" Rachel says airily, looking haughtily away from him. "I don't suppose that a man of your... intelligence, or should I say lack of musical appreciation and culture, would know the slightest bit about such a beautiful piece."

Puck looks at her, a bit disbelieving. He must have done a number on this girl because she's a _bitch._ But rather than comment, he walks to another drawer and shuffles through some records, pulling out the one that she's talking about.

"Here," he says brashly, handing it to her.

Rachel takes it, her eyes still full of fire. She doesn't say "thank you," but Puck doesn't really care too much. _This_ is why he never wanted to talk to this girl.

"You still hand out autographs?" Puck asks, his expression hard.

"Yes, I do," Rachel replies, studying the record as if she doesn't really believe Puck could have chosen the right one. She turns to face Puck. "But don't expect me to give you one."

"Fine," Puck spits, a little bit like a spoiled child. "I don't want one anyways."

"Fine," Rachel replies.

The air is tense around them, and Puck is about to walk away when Rachel breaks the silence. "Are you still with Santana?"

"Who's Santana?" Puck asks, racking his brain for any Santana he may know of, but he comes up blank.

Rachel looks horrified (well more horrified than she looked before). "Your _girlfriend!_" she snaps disgustedly. "The one that you were with when you wanted to sleep with me!"

Another memory arises. Oh, _Santana._

"No, Santana left me for this other girl—Brittany," Puck shrugs a shoulder. "Didn't know she was a lesbian, but whatever, she was hot."

Rachel huffs, fiddling with the record in her hands. She lets out a slow breath and then meets his eyes, her gaze fiery and challenging. "So then, are you still keeping up with that disgusting behavior of sleeping with every woman you meet?"

The answer surprises her.

"No," Puck says, and his voice is honest. A small, pleased grin tugs at his mouth. "Those days are over. I'm getting married, actually."

Rachel's eyebrows raise in shock.

"Really, now? _You?_" she laughs in disbelief. "Noah Puckerman—getting _married?_"

"Yeah," Puck says proudly. He fishes his frayed leather wallet out of his pocket, pulls out a picture, and hands it to her.

Rachel observes it quietly, and Puck knows that she's taking in his fiancee. Her fingers drift over the picture and he knows she's looking at Quinn's flawless skin, her delicate complexion, her shiny blonde hair, and her hazel-brown eyes.

When Rachel replies, there's a softening of her voice and less animosity. "Puck, she's beautiful."

"Yeah, I know," Puck murmurs. Oh he knows all right. Quinn Fabray is the special, one-in-a-million kind of girl that you only encounter once in a blue moon, and that's why he's made sure she's wearing _his_ ring.

"How did you get her?" Rachel asks, her voice full of skepticism. Oh, so now the bitch is back.

"A lot of chasing," Puck says, and adds in, "and no one can resist the Puckzilla. She came around eventually."

Rachel purses her lips and hums an annoyed noise.

"What about you and Finn?" Puck asks, "you guys planning on getting married?"

"I don't see how it's any of your business!" Rachel hisses defensively, eyes narrowing, and Puck knows.

He knows from his experience hitting on girls and reading their body language—he knows everything about Rachel (well at least about her current relationship). He knows there's no way Rachel and Finn are even close to getting married, so they probably just met recently, and he knows that she's probably moved in with him (or maybe he moved into her place—he can't imagine Rachel moving in with a construction worker). He knows that she says the reason she's not investing more into the relationship is because of her dreams and her careers, because even though Finn really is a good guy—Puck knows this because he was friends with the kid and even though the guy's a little stupid, he has a big heart—Rachel's dreams are bigger than Finn's. Maybe Rachel will help change that.

"Okay," Puck says, "whatever." He plucks Quinn's picture out of Rachel's fingers and slips it back into his wallet. Call him whipped or whatever, but he's crazy about Quinn.

There's a noise behind them and Finn is back. "Rachel, these drums are _great!_"

Rachel smiles at him, her features softened and it seems as though Queen Bitch has left the building. "I'm glad, Finn. I'm just going to pay for this record and then we can leave," she says, her voice cold at the end of the sentence.

"Forget it, just take it. Gift," Puck says, shrugging slightly. "Because of _Finn_," he clarifies when Finn looks a mixture of bewildered and concerned, and Rachel's eyes narrow venomously. "And because Barbra Streisand sucks big time anyway. Don't know why I even have that record—you're doing me a favor by taking it."

Rachel's eyes widen in horror and she's about to start chastising and challenging Puck, but Finn, sensing the tension, slaps a hand over her mouth and physically picks her up to leave Puck's store. He gives Puck an offhand wave. "Thanks Puck, maybe Rachel and I'll see you around."

Puck grunts in reply. "Don't count on it."

That Rachel Berry is crazy. He feels bad for a nice guy like Finn, getting involved with a psycho like her, but hey, Puck can't be responsible for Finn's relationships. Besides, it doesn't matter. Rachel Berry is insane and everything would be just dandy if he never sees her again.

* * *

><p><strong>Author's Note<strong>: Chapter Two done! Please leave me some reviews-they help motivate me to update or else I just kind of think no one's interested and won't continue. Thanks for reading! Let me know if you have any suggestions. Thanks to _kyella0203 _who suggested Puck work in a record store.


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